Two Men in a Cafe
by davros72
Summary: Two legendary authors meet in a Parisian cafe...


TITLE: Two Men in a Cafe, or, Six Degrees of Time Travel  
  
AUTHOR: Kevin Schultz  
  
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: davros72@earthlink.net  
  
FEEDBACK: Yes, please  
  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: I'm fine with it, just let me know where it'll be, that's all I ask.  
  
CATEGORY: Humor  
  
RATING/WARNINGS: PG, I guess, for a harsh word or two.  
  
MAIN CHARACTERS: Jules Verne, and another writer  
  
DISCLAIMER: SAJV and characters copyright Talisman/Promark/etc. No infringement is intended. Other disclaimers at the end of the story. No peeking!  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was fun to write, cobbling all sorts of interconnected stuff together. Hope you like it!  
  
***************  
  
PARIS, 1899  
  
The warm August sun beat down on the canopy of the Parisian outdoor cafe. Most of the small round tables were empty. Except for one. At that one table sat a refined-looking man, who sat quietly reading a newspaper and glancing occasionally at passersby. Sipping at his tea, the man squinted as he spotted a figure limping towards him frown down the street. He put down his drink, set aside his newspaper, and waited for the other man to arrive.  
  
"George!" the approaching man said happily as they shook hands across the table. He heaved his tired frame into the chair opposite the already seated man, and sighed. He smiled through his bushy white beard. "How are you doing, my good man?"  
  
"Oh, quite well, Jules," George replied, smiling back. "A bit of aching in the bones, but that is to be expected."  
  
"Indeed," Jules agreed, glancing up at the sky. "I can feel the approaching storm myself, I think."  
  
"Oh, don't remind me," said George. "I have to be across town later this afternoon to visit my local publishing agent."  
  
"The old rascal trying to cheat you out of some profits?"  
  
"Hmmmmph." George scratched his hand idly. "Not that I write for the money, mind you."  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"No."  
  
They looked at each other, then both burst out laughing.  
  
"Oh, George," Jules chuckled. "You always knew how to spin a good story, didn't you?"  
  
"You mean lie? Yes, I am quite adept at that, I will admit."  
  
"How have your books been doing, if I may ask?" Jules inquired, ordering a tea from the waiter who had come to check on the two men.  
  
"Hmmm, decently, decently. Do you know, one of my critics disapproved of my War of the Worlds tale? He had the most ludicrous notion that it would have been a lot more exciting had it been set in America. In New Jersey, no less! Preposterous! As if anyone would want to invade America. Hmmph!"  
  
Jules laughed heartily. "I think I have encountered the very same critic. I read one notice about my Nemo story that had the nerve to suggest I should have included some jaunty whaling songs in it! And a friendly little seal!"  
  
"Oh, good grief, tell me you are making that up!"  
  
"I wish I was," Jules said, shaking his head. He thanked the waiter who delivered his tea. Sipping at his drink, Jules leaned back in the creaking chair. "Mmmm, I think you'll find that there is not a man, woman, or child alive today who does not enjoy a tasty beverage."  
  
"Indeed," George said agreeably. "Oh, Doctor Brown visited the other day."  
  
"Did he?"  
  
"Mmmm. He said to pass along his hellos to you if I saw you."  
  
"What a thoughtful man," Jules said, smiling wistfully. "Was his family visiting as well?"  
  
"Yes, Clara and the boys were there, too."  
  
"And how are my namesakes?" Jules said, his eyes twinkling.  
  
George frowned. "I still say he would have been better off naming them Herbert and George. Who ever heard of a man named Verne?"  
  
"You're just jealous," Jules teased.  
  
"Hmmm. Perhaps." He looked over at Jules, caught his eye, and chuckled. "They're in their teenage years, now, you know. Jules is a bit taller than his brother Verne, now. And he always seems to have his nose stuck in a book. Such an insatiable reader. He was reading something entitled 'An Exchange of Hostages' the other day. Looked interesting."  
  
"And Verne?"  
  
"That little firebrand. He seems to have boundless energy, running rings around all of us with his enthusiasm. I'm amazed Clara hasn't gone totally grey."  
  
"And I take it Clara is doing well, apart from dealing with the young ones?"  
  
"She is fantastic. And she still looks so incredibly like my own darling wife."  
  
"That is amazing. You know, I never even noticed it until that one time you told me. The hair is different, but otherwise the resemblance between Clara and your Amy is remarkable."  
  
"And how is your lovely wife Ana doing, Jules?" George asked fondly.  
  
Jules smiled an incredibly happy smile. "She is incredible. I don't know how she does it, but she is the most amazing, generous, wonderful schoolteacher. She loves her job, and her children, and I love her."  
  
"You two make such an adorable couple," George said happily. "I have always thought so."  
  
"Well, I must say you and Amy make a sweet duo as well."  
  
"Thank you," George smiled. "I am so glad she came back with me."  
  
"Came back?" Jules asked, puzzled. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Oh, blast," George grumbled. "I've kept it secret for so long, yet now my carelessness has let it slip." He sighed, looking around furtively. "You must never tell anyone this. Promise me, Jules."  
  
"I swear to you, George," Jules whispered. "Now, what's this all about?"  
  
George heaved another tired sigh, then began to whisper the story to Jules. "Well, you know that book I wrote, The Time Machine?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Well..."  
  
Jules sat back, a stunned look on his face. "Don't tell me it was real?"  
  
George grimaced. "Well, not quite. Parts of it. But quite a bit of it I made up wholesale. However, I did create a time machine, and I did travel in time. I ended up in the late twentieth century, in pursuit of Jack the Ripper, who had dark designs on the future. I had to stop him, and in the process, I fell madly in love with a young woman I met there. And wouldn't you know it, she came back with me. My dear, sweet Amy."  
  
"You are not serious."  
  
"I am." He dug into a coat pocket and brought out a crumpled photograph. "Here. This is a picture of the man who was known as Jack the Ripper. Thankfully, I stopped him from causing any further destruction."  
  
Jules took the photograph and stared at it, shocked. "Arago?" he whispered, dumbfounded. Hurriedly, he pushed the photo back into George's hands.  
  
George noticed the stunned look on Jules' face. "Oh, don't tell me that nothing you wrote about ever happened to you."  
  
Jules blinked, nervously pursing his lips. "Mmm..."  
  
"A-ha! I knew it!" George grinned evilly. "Out with it, man. Tell me your tale."  
  
"Hmmm," Jules mused. "Where to begin?"  
  
"In the beginning?"  
  
"Very funny, George," Jules frowned, lifting an eyebrow. "Well, there was indeed a Phileas Fogg. And a Passepartout."  
  
"Really?" George replied. "That Passepartout sounded like such an interesting fellow. And was Phileas as insufferable as he was portrayed?"  
  
"Hmmm... well, perhaps." Jules laughed lightly. "But you never heard it from me. And as for Rebecca..." He paused, his thoughts drifting.  
  
"I don't recall a Rebecca in any of your stories," George said, slightly confused.  
  
At this, Jules paused. "I couldn't bear to write about her," Jules mused quietly. "I had... well, I had an infatuation with her. And I feared anything I wrote about her would embarrass either myself or her. I just couldn't bring myself to do it."  
  
George nodded sympathetically. "I understand." He paused. "Does Ana know?"  
  
"Know?" Jules chuckled. "Rebecca and she were best friends. Rebecca introduced us."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"And besides, she was still pursuing her career as a secret agent, so I was fearful of destroying her cover." Jules sighed, then shook his head to clear it. "Well, never mind."  
  
George sipped his tea. "I saw the Doctor the other day," he said calmly.  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"He tells me you and he had some interesting times years ago."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Yes, indeed. He declined to go into specifics. You know what he is like."  
  
"Which one?"  
  
George laughed heartily. "Oh, Jules, that is rich! You are so right. Well, this was the little dark-haired one, with that ridiculous umbrella."  
  
"Oh, him!" Jules chuckled. "I remember him."  
  
"I first met the one with that terribly garish coat of many colors. Such dreadful taste! My favorite, however, was the tall one with that amazingly long scarf, did you ever meet that one?"  
  
Nodding, Jules answered, "More than once. I rather liked the one who reminded me of Lord Byron. Classical features, long wavy hair. He had a wonderful traveling companion, a young girl named Charley." He paused, thinking for a minute. "You know, now that I come to think of it... She looked a lot like Rebecca. I wonder..." He shook his head. "No, that's ridiculous."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nothing, forget it. Silly notion."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
"What did the Doctor want?"  
  
"What does the Doctor ever want? To tease us with his knowledge of the future, his knowledge of our works, and to generally be a nuisance."  
  
Jules laughed again. "Oh, yes, I forgot."  
  
The two men sat quietly for several moments, sipping their tea. Then George stood up carefully, easing his tired body out of the chair.  
  
"Well, Jules, it has been a pleasure," George said, "but I must keep that appointment." He held out his hand, and the two men shook.  
  
"I understand. Must give the public what they want."  
  
"Heavens, no!" George said, aghast. "The general public are fools, and what they want is never what they need."  
  
"That is indeed so very true." Jules stood up and walked George to the streetcorner.  
  
"Please look me up whenever you are in London next," George said, smiling.   
  
"Absolutely," Jules said as George waved and walked away down the avenue.  
  
"Smug, insufferable bastard," Jules said under his breath, frowning angrily as he turned and stomped away.  
  
"Stupid, arrogant hack," Herbert George Wells grumbled furiously as he walked as quick as he could away from Jules Verne.  
  
THE END  
  
***************************************  
  
DISCLAIMERS (or in-joke explanations/confessions/whatever):  
  
Doctor Emmett, Clara, Jules, and Verne Brown from "Back to the Future" copyright Universal Pictures.  
  
The Doctor, Charley Pollard from "Doctor Who" copyright BBC  
  
Amy Robbins from "Time After Time" copyright Warner Brothers  
  
Tasty beverage line--David Letterman  
  
Obviously I have taken liberties with the lives of Verne and Wells. I'm pretty sure we all know Verne didn't have a wife named Ana, but I think we all know where I was going with that, don't we? Also, was HG Wells ever in Paris in 1899, along with Jules Verne? I don't believe so. At this point in his life, Jules Verne was too unwell to travel much from his home in Amiens. But then, I ain't writing history here, folks. :-) Cheers! 


End file.
